Your writing is great. It sounds like you because it is you. You provide enough pieces so your picture can be seen but still allow the reader to fill in the silly details. I did not feel sorry for you (or the character in your short story). Probably because early in the blog you let the reader know this would be the last time you would be in his apartment. If you aren’t looking for sympathy, putting this hint early on prepared me. And yeah, I did not like the pacing dude but since I suspected he was going to piss you off, all I was waiting for was how he was going to do it. Besides, I already know there are worse people out there. The funny thing with me is that given enough time, I can find a way to get out and just be a witness. Witnessing is not painful or as painful (i.e., getting hurt versus witnessing getting hurt). Seems like yogi stuff but one way for me to cope.

We are all foreigners. It is impossible to know what it is like to be someone else. Some don’t even know themselves. I believe you know who you are though words will fail at times to express it. I believe you continue to learn about yourself and in the process, you learn of others. This experience gave you a new understanding of the pacing dude. You understood. And then you made an attempt to be understood. He probably did understand but he was not willing to accept it and then be it. Leave him. Witness yourself leaving him. Because understanding and then knowing and then not acting on that knowledge is worse than ignorance. Oh well. Hang in there. It was nice to see and read you.